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Jack married to Jill maddjak@hotmail.com Seattle, Washington age 49 my parrot -- Baby 2 Polish chickens - Harry and Elizabeth 2 ducks - Starsky and Hutch |
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I live with Jill, an assortment of animals and an extra roommate (an old friend -- I mean really, really, really ancient <g>) I'm stubborn, opinionated and blessed with a sick and twisted sense of humor.
I started having trouble breathing in March of 1997. It didn't bother me a lot because it came and went. Then one day, when I couldn't walk from the office to the bathroom without stopping to rest, I scheduled an appointment with a doctor. I didn't have a doctor -- the last time I saw a doctor it was a Mayan curandaro in Mexico, about 5 years ago -- for a pulled muscle in my neck.
Anyhow, I made it to the doctor. She examined me and called 911 to take me to the hospital. Well, they poked and prodded me, took pictures and frowned a lot. They gave me an appointment with a cardiologist and with my other new doctor. I went back to my new doctor, who was now a guy because they changed on me (and no, it wasn't an operation on the doc). Now this doc was cool and caring and he was almost in tears when he told me, "Your ejection fraction is 10% - and you gonna die!"
Needless to say, this really put a kink in my plans for the weekend -- not to mention the next few years. I mean I haven't even gone on Jurassic Park -- the ride. So I walked the 6 blocks to the office, growling and barking at street people who kept following me demanding a quarter. I got to the office and sat on the curb and cried -- wishing I had several rolls of quarters and enough strength to shove 'em up the bums' respective noses. I got over my snit and went upstairs and called Jill so I could go home.
Then came the cardiologist. He said, "No, your EF is 15%. If it was 10% you'd be dead!" I liked this guy; great bedside manner! Then came Torquemada (High Grand Inquisitor for the
Spanish Inquisition). See, they tell me my heart doesn't function right and then they take me over to this place and inject this stuff into me. No problem. I'm cool. Then they take me into this room where they have this big thing that kinda looks like the x-ray machine at the dentist. You know, part of the warp-drive engine from the starship Enterprise, with a plastic sno-cone cup glued on the end of it. This is cool too. Then they take this thing that looks like an ironing board, only it's slightly curved, longer than an ironing board and it's about 8 inches wide. They tell me to lay down on it.
Now, I'm tipping the scales at around 313 pounds and this no longer looks too entertaining. But they get me on there and tell me, "Now, this is going to take about 40 minutes and you have to lie perfectly still." Right! Then they put my right arm in a totally uncomfortable and unacceptable postion -- and duct-taped it there. Then they did the same with my left. I managed the 40 minutes. Step this way for the next ride.
They put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me down to the dungeon. It seemed like miles in these musty underground corridors that linked the hospital with the outbuildings. They got me to the treadmill and explained very carefully that I needed to stay on the treadmill as long as possible, you know, like push myself. Sounded okay to me. They hooked up about 400 wires to my body and then to their machine. I got on the treadmill and found out my sandals wouldn't stay on my feet. Then they cranked that sucker up. It's going about twenty miles an hour at about a 45% incline and I'm thinking, "They just want the morgue guys to have to take me back because the guy that brought me over is too tired." Well, I finished my 6½ minutes. My bare feet felt like I had been for a ride on a belt sander. And my breathing sounded like the sound track to a porno movie.
They poured my quivering blob of jelly into the wheelchair and wheeled me back to where I came from -- with my head bobbing like those toy dogs that used to hang out in the back windows of '57 Chevys. Then they taped me to the table again. Well, I could go on and on and on -- some of you think I have already, but I'll be kind.
I eat copius amounts of habenero peppers, salsa, fruit and cabbage. I also ingest a lot of lemon and lime juice. You will find some of my recipes at Kitchen Corner.
May 10, 2000 - After 3 years of eating good salt-free goodies, exercising, and taking my medicine, my heart started shrinking and my ejection fraction went back up. At my last visit the doc declared I was normal (well at least my heart was normal). My EF is now 75% and I only take 10mg of Zestril. The doc says I should come visit once a year. It could happen to you!
Jack -- August 17, 1997
All information on this site is opinion only. All concepts, explanations, trials, and studies have been re-written in plain English and may contain errors. No one here is a doctor. No information on this page should be used by any person to affect their medical, legal, educational, social, or psychological treatment in any way. This web site and all its pages copyright © 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002 Jon C.